A leg is a leg is a leg
by HouseAddict16
Summary: What if Three Stories wasn't made? Would House still be in pain? Read this and find out what I think could have happened.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first House fic. and I wrote it before I watched the "Three Stories" episode so this is kind of an alternative situation to House's whole experience. Reviews are welcomed.

Feeling groggy and a little confused House woke to the sound of his own heartbeat. Beep, beep, beep… "What the hell?" he thought to himself. With his vision still slightly blurred he began to survey the room. Wilson was there, asleep in the neighboring chair with a newspaper sprawled across his chest as well as the side table. The television was on displaying some infomercial that may have followed some baseball game or the 11'o clock news. House also saw various medical supplies, an IV stand that was connected to his left hand complete with a morphine drip, a folded blanket at the end of his bed, and a sat. monitor connected to his right index finger which was the source of the beeping sound. "One thing's for sure, the pain is less now", he thought to himself, "But why? My days are all screwed up; I don't know what time it is or even how I really ended up here. It wasn't that long ago was it? Oh…"

The last he could remember was the weekend he hoped to be only last weekend. He was being his usual self on the weekends, staying up late, sleeping in late, and having the usual Saturday afternoon lacrosse game. The game was a good one and was no more physical than regular. Sunday morning followed with the same aches and pains that they do every Sunday after a game. The regular aches include a burn in his thighs from the constant running, tightness between his shoulder blades from throwing and catching, other than that he was great. Sunday consisted of a little garage band jamming with his fellow musically inclined friends, lunch with Wilson and Tivo into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

Monday morning came all too fast and House was a little slow on the get up. Still a little sore from the physical fitness of Saturday, he stumbled into the shower and would have liked to have either stayed in bed or in the shower longer than his morning would allow. Since the alarm failed to go off, which could have been a result of the late television watching and the lack of motivation to activate the alarm, House was short on time for breakfast, so he settled for coffee and quickly left the apartment.

After driving into work a little too quickly than the speed limit allows, House arrived at work about ten minutes late. Walking into the hospital at a rather quick pace as to try to skirt around Cuddy, the boss, he went unnoticed to the elevator. Turning up at his office at only 15 minutes later than usual he met his three colleagues. Chase, with his blonde hair, was sitting at the large table in the conference room that is adjoined to House's office. Chase was reading a newspaper instead of a file which was what he should have been reading.

"What's going on Chase? The paper more interesting than a case?"

"No, but considering that there is no case right now… may I ask how your morning was?"

"Don't ask, why would I tell you?"

"Oh that good huh?"

House didn't respond as he strolled into his office and found Cameron sitting on his couch with a journal in hand.

"What are you doing in my office?"

"Reading the newest edition of the New England Journal of Medicine."

"I thought there was no case."

"Yeah, there isn't one, but I can always learn something new from these journals."

"Oh, ok."

"Cuddy's looking for you."

"Well then you didn't see me."

As he uttered those words Cuddy appeared as his office door.

"House you are in the clinic today, and pick one of your lackeys to go with you."

"But mom, I don't need any help."

"Well the clinic is packed so today you will, no matter how good you think you are."


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

As House moved from his desk in the office to the elevator he noticed a pain in his right thigh, one that was different from his normal aches after lacrosse. Ignoring it he slowly made his way down to the clinic. As usual House hated the clinic. All the annoying people who think that their problem is urgent when he really thinks that it's just a time killer and he could be spending his time somewhere else. While he was healing the clinic patients he kept noticing the pain in his thigh getting worse as the day went on. Thinking that it was just because he didn't take any Advil that morning he shook it off.

By the time he returned home his thigh still hurt, but he thought that it was just a pulled muscle or something, so he took some Advil, another shower and went to bed early. While in the shower he noticed a bruise about the size of a lacrosse ball on his thigh, right about where it was painful. He decided that a hit was the reason for the deep pain, even though he didn't remember ever being hit there; he usually caught the ball before it hit him. Hitting the pillow early was a something out of the ordinary, but he was oddly overly tired and he just felt like sleeping a little extra.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4

Being known for a late riser, House unusually awoke at around 5:00AM. He found it hard to read the big red glowing numbers on the nightstand as he was severely sidetracked by a white hot searing pain in his right thigh. Since it was 5:00 and he hadn't been up at 5:00 since that one night he and Wilson drank the night away, he decided to get up and have a look at his leg. He flipped on the reading light and threw aside the covers. He chose to try to stand up and move to the bathroom since he really had to pee. Once the searing pain subsided slightly he placed both feet on the floor and pushed himself to a standing position. Oddly his right leg was even more painful than it was before and he couldn't stand comfortably or sustain a standing position for a full thirty seconds. How was he supposed to work like this? Knowing that he might be in a little bit of trouble House gained enough strength to hobble to the bathroom, but only made it to the middle of the hall before he collapsed sweating, swearing and in pain. Crawling the rest of his way down the hall he finally reached the toilet and sat down, he still had to pee. Trying to relieve himself he let down his pajama bottoms and discovered that his once lacrosse ball sized bruise was now the size of a soccer ball, it had grown four times larger in about eight hours. Now he knew that he was in trouble.

Knowing that he had to either get some help or make it into work he slowly but surely completed his daily routine. What normally took him a half an hour to finish took him roughly an hour and a half to shower, brush his teeth, make coffee and eat breakfast. The shower didn't do much since his leg hurt too much to do anything with; the shower only lasted five minutes. He wet his hair, half heartedly shampooed and rinsed, that was all he could handle. All through out his pain he was thinking what the hell is going on? By the time he was finished in the bathroom he was in severe pain. In his boxers from the pervious night he was limping/ hopping his way back to the bedroom. Arriving in the bedroom he collapsed on the bed sweating profusely and still in horrendous pain. The last thing he wanted to do was call in sick because he knew that if he did that he would never get out of his bed. After a long and painful process he was dressed in a clean outfit consisting of the loosest jeans he owned, a band t-shirt, and the closest pair of sneakers he could find. Collecting his cell phone, wallet and keys he made his way to the car. All the pain he was in made him decide to take a side trip to the kitchen where he took many more Advil than he should have. Deciding to bring the bottle along with him he got into his car. There he decided that driving was completely out of the question. Doing the last thing he wanted to, he called Wilson.


	5. Chapter 5

**I apologize for not posting the rest of this story, I didn't realize that I only posted half, no wonder no one reads it! Enjoy the rest.**

Ch. 5

"Wilson I need you to come pick me up at my house."  
"Why is that? You are supposed to be at work now you know?"  
"Yeah I know, my car isn't working and you really need to come and get me."  
"House, what's going on? You can fix a car with the best of them."  
"God damn it Wilson! Just get your ass over here and you will find out soon enough."

When Wilson pulled up House was sitting in his car, the driver side door open, sweating in pain and humming a song. Wilson gave a look of half what the hell is going on, and half he's just jerkin my chain again. Wilson found out soon enough that he was wrong on the jerkin his chain part. As he walked over to House, House tried to stand and used the door as more support than he should have needed to.

"What's going on?"  
"I think I have a problem."  
"You think? Well what's your problem? It must be pretty big if you needed me."  
"Yeah, uhh, well let me just say that once we get in the car you will see."  
"Well then let's get a move on."

House slowly getting up, wincing in pain, made his way from his car to Wilson's. It didn't take long at all for Wilson to discover the problem.  
"So what did you do that you couldn't drive yourself in?"  
"Well it's my right leg, if it were my left I would have gotten in with no problem."  
"Yeah, ok, but what did you do?"  
"All I know is that I was sore after the game, like always. Yesterday my thigh hurt and I didn't think it was a big deal. Last night I saw I had a bruise about the size of the ball and then it wakes me up this morning the size of a soccer ball and horribly painful. You should have seen me trying to get ready. What a trip that was."  
"You know where we're going right?"  
"Yeah to work, I have to."  
"No, we are going to the emergency room. If you can barely walk and can't drive then you can't work."  
"C'mon Wilson, I think it will be better once we get to work."  
"At least let me look at it then, we have to see what's going on House."

Pulling in to the usual parking area, Wilson shuts off the car and proceeds to make a phone call with his cell.  
"Who are you calling? C'mon I'll be fine." House says as he is trying to catch his breath, obviously still in pain.  
"I'm calling for a wheelchair. It's not like you can crawl across the parking lot to get into work."  
"Wilson I'll be fine. If I can't do it myself you're here to help right? Be a pal."


	6. Chapter 6

Ch. 6

Going along with the agitated and in pain House, Wilson goes along with House's idea and they slowly make it to the building. House won't cry in front of people, but he is coming close by the time they end up in Wilson's office.  
"Why didn't we go to my office?"  
"Do you want Cuddy to find us? She doesn't know that I left. She doesn't keep a tab on me like she does on you."  
"Oh, yeah you are right about not wanting her to find us. I don't want this to get around."   
"Ok, I'll go get a gown and you can just sit here for a minute."  
"Wilson, do you really think I care if you see my boxers? I don't have enough energy to change again. Besides I think you picked these ones out for me anyways."  
"Ok well show me what you've got going on."

House takes down his pants and finds an even worse scene than he had before he left his house. The soccer ball sized bruise is darker than it was previously and covers the whole outside of his thigh and is creeping to the inside as well. First they both just observe what he's got. As Wilson goes to further examine it House says "You can't do that while I'm in a chair. It hurts like a mo'fo' and almost all my weight is on the backside of it."  
"Alright well where do you suggest we do this?"  
"Umm, on your desk. That way I can lay flat and you can see what the hell is going on."  
As House limps his way over to the desk he almost passes out from the pain.  
"How are you feeling?"  
"Besides the pain I am very nauseous, sweaty and my heart is pounding. Other than that I'm peachy. How about you?"   
Wilson examines House by marking the bruise line with a surgical marker and touching various areas for sensitivity and sensation. His thigh was very swollen and a deep purple. House holds in the pain the best he could while Wilson checked over his leg.  
"Alright, now I wanna see you try to stand and or walk the best you can."  
"C'mon do I have to, I'm dying here."  
"Yea, I hate to do it to ya but I gotta see if I can diagnose anything before you really get mad at me for bringing a specialist down here."  
"Alright I'll try."  
House tries to walk but his leg buckles and he collapse on the ground. Wilson checks on him and he is half sobbing, half yelling.  
"Alright House if we wait any longer you might go into severe shock. I'm calling a specialist. You hang out on the floor, I need my desk, and he will be here soon to see what's going on." 


	7. Chapter 7

Ch. 7

The specialist shows up five to ten minutes after the call is made and House is almost passed out on the floor, both from exhaustion and pain. After an examination from the specialist and a little persuading by Wilson, House is admitted for his pain. Many tests are preformed including an MRI. By the time House is all tested and an IV is going complete with pain medication he is overly exhausted and passes out. He just doesn't care anymore about what is happening, only about how he feels and why he feels that way. Between the morphine and the pain he loses track of what day it is and where he is.  
By the time House has recalled upon his exciting Monday and Tuesday Wilson is awake and checks on House.  
"What day is it?"  
"You don't remember?"   
"No, these drugs are too good sometimes."  
"It's Thursday."  
"I slept through Wednesday? What time is it?"   
"uhh, 3:15 why?"  
"You are telling me that I slept through Wednesday and most of Thurday?"  
"Well ya, on and off. Put it this way, you weren't conscious enough to carry on a conversation for more than three minutes."  
"Oh, so what caused it? Do we know yet?"  
"Infarction."  
"Are you shitting me? I guess it makes sense now, but come on, from lacrosse?"   
"I don't know what caused it, but that's what happened. Have you looked at it since you've been up?"  
"No, why? It should look the same right?"  
"Well…"  
Wilson got up and walked the two feet to his bedside. House pulled the covers off and stared awe struck at the sight. His leg was covered in bandages, which only meant one thing. They cut him open and took the infarct out. House "flipped his lid" so to speak and went off on Wilson like his world was over.  
"Wilson what the hell?! You let them do this to me? What am I gonna do now? Can I run or play sports or function again?"  
With all the yelling his leg seared in pain yet again. He grasped his thigh as best he could without hurting it more and made a rocking motion as to ward off the pain. As he is doing this Wilson talks of what will go on and how long House will remain here.  
"You may need another surgery. They hope that they got all of it, but they can't be sure. You will be in here for a while and will need therapy. They say that you may not walk correctly or at all. I don't know what to tell you. I know that nothing will help to console you so yell if you must."  
Of course House was going to rant; at least he would have if he had the strength. He was still wiped out and was only awake for an hour or so until he passed out while they were watching television.


	8. Chapter 8

Ch. 8

As the days went on, House gained more and more strength. Before Wilson knew it House was back to his loud self complete with sarcastic comments and his short fuse at times. Once House was staying awake for full days Wilson went back to work. It just so happened that he ended up going back to work the day Stacy showed up. Stacy and House were close but had recently broken up. House still had feelings for her, but Stacy was still unsure how she felt. They spent the day together. House, pretended to be annoyed with her company, but secretly loved that she was next to him, even if she didn't talk. They exchanged a few words every now and then, but not any long conversations. Mostly they just watched daytime television, of which House loved the soaps, General Hospital and all that. Stacy only stayed for two days and then had to leave. Wilson would drop by every now and again, like at lunch time, which was good because he brought normal food with him, hospital food was less that satisfactory to say the least.  
One thing that made the days seem long was that fact that he couldn't get out of bed and wonder or what not. After about two weeks the dreaded physical therapy started. House's new hell. A bastard of a person, or so House thought, would come up to the room and start stretching and moving his knee and hip to get range of motion back. House would sweat and swear and feel the pain all over again. Wilson showed up almost directly after therapy one day and showed up with a gift.   
"So, how it going?"  
"Well the nazi just left, you missed it. I came up with some new words today."  
"Sorry I asked. I brought a peace offering."  
"What's that, more drugs?"  
"No, I thought you might need something to keep the days going. So I brought you this."  
Wilson hands House a Gameboy, one of those jobs that folds in half and you play videogames on it, complete with three new games.  
"Jeesh Wilson I don't know what to say. I knew I acted like a child but this takes the cake."  
"Well, if you're gonna be like that."  
"No, no I'm sorry the morphine hasn't kicked in yet. I'm really glad I have something to do besides TV and sleep. This will come in handy. I appreciate it."


	9. Chapter 9

Ch. 9

As the days pass House uses his Gameboy more and more. He has limited his swearing to the nurse's and even the physical therapy Nazis, but he still swore. Slowly his moods began to change. He becomes more and more introverted and likes to be by himself. Soon he begins to yell at who ever came in, nurses especially. One walked in just to check on him and he gave her a lecture on how he's a doctor and he can take care of things, if he needed her he would you the button, you don't need to go to college to understand that concept. Soon his visitors were knocking and waiting outside before they dared to experience the rage of House, all visitors except Wilson of course. One day House decides to ask Wilson why he keeps coming.  
"Don't you have something better to do than sit here when you aren't working?"  
"No, my house is pretty much empty and I mostly hang out with you anyways."  
"Come on I'm a boring jackass. All I do is yell at you and throw things when I'm not content not talking and either watching TV, playing a game, or sleeping."  
"Yeah, but you're my friend and I like to let you know that I'm here for you, if you need it."  
"Well, thanks but I don't need it."  
"That's fine, but it won't stop me from coming."


End file.
